


Rings of Silver, Rings of Gold

by Nicci



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-22 08:16:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicci/pseuds/Nicci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p><br/><img/><br/>The things some cops will do under cover...!</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	Rings of Silver, Rings of Gold

**Author's Note:**

> please note: this fic was first posted to by website on January 8th, 2007

This has _got_ to be one of the weirdest outfits I've ever had to wear in the line of duty. I mean, don't get me wrong - leather is nice. I can do leather. I own a couple of leather jackets... but leather pants? These just ain't me. Which is fine actually, cuz I'm not supposed to _be_ me right now. Undercover gigs are not exactly new to me. Let's face it, I've been living one for more than a year now. So one more costume, one more new face is nothing to me.

Fraser, on the other hand, is beside himself with excitement. Ever since he went undercover to bust Denny Scarpa a couple of months back, he's been dying to do it again. I guess it beats standing like a statue outside the consulate for hours on end. Come to think of it, undercover ain't so new to him either. I seem to recall reading about his adventures in an all girl's school as a Mz Fraser. I keep meaning to tease the crap outta him for that one, but it's never come up.

This gig is definitely not one I would have chosen though. I've played a lot of different parts over the years; a drug addict; a mob goon; a gay rights activist and even an exotic dancer, but I've never had to be a prostitute before. And no, before you die laughing, I'm not in drag. I'm a _male_ prostitute, okay? Complete with body piercing and bleached blonde hair. I'm looking at myself in my bathroom mirror and thinking that Welsh has an odd sense of humour if he thinks anyone is going to take a fancy to me like this. I look stupid.

"Ray, may I come in?"

I'd rather Fraser didn't seem me looking like this, but as he's playing the part of my pimp on this one, I can't really avoid it now, can I? "Yeah, sure. Come in, but I warn ya, you so much as smirk and I will punch you in the face."

The door opens slowly and his head pops around. His eyes go wide and he blinks several times. Give him his due, he doesn't smirk. He doesn't even grin. Me? I would have been laughing my ass off by now.

"You look...." He trails off, waving his hand in the air aimlessly. "You look very nice, Ray."

Oh dear Lord, only Fraser could say something like that faced with seeing his best buddy dressed up like a leather clad hooker. "I look like shit, Fraser and we both know it."

He comes fully into the bathroom and I get a look at what he's wearing, and suddenly I feel even more stupid. He's dressed from head to foot in black Armani. Black slacks, black shoes, black shirt... he's.... he's.... words actually fail me here. If I thought he looked like sex on a stick wearing the tuxedo, he looks like all my wet dreams rolled into one like this. My mouth goes completely dry.

He's staring at my bare midriff, at the diamond stud belly button ring, and suddenly I'm thinking that the cut-off black mesh top was a bad idea. I feel way too exposed here.

"Does that hurt?" He nods his head in the direction on my belly and my fingers automatically find the stud and fiddle with it. It hurt like a bastard at the time, but it's okay now. Mostly I forget it's even there. Same with the ones in my ear, but lets not talk about the nipple rings! I couldn't decide which to go for, so I got both. Silver for the left nipple, gold for the right.

See, I pride myself on the details. If I'm gonna be a male prostitute, then I'm sure as hell gonna look authentic. "Nah, it's cool. Let's get at'em." Suddenly, the bathroom feels way too small for both of us so I squeeze past him and make my escape.

There's no way in hell I'm leaving this apartment dressed like this, so I throw on my full length camel coat even though it's the height of summer, and grab my car keys. As I trot down the stairs, trying not to make eye contact with any of my neighbours, I'm aware of Fraser right behind me. I'm beginning to regret the decision to get ready at my apartment rather than at the station. But if I'm embarrassed by the wide-eyed stares my spiky blonde hair is getting from Mrs Palmani at number 305, then imagine how I would have coped with a bullpen full of wolf-whistling cops?

By the time I'm in the GTO, I've calmed down a little. Don't get me wrong; the set-up doesn't bother me. All I need to do is hang around a street corner with the other boys and wait for our mark to show up. Edwin Zale has a ‘type' and apparently I'm ‘it'. All I gotta do is get into his car, Huey and Dewey follow from a discreet distance and the moment things heat up, I slap the cuffs on him and then it's home in time for the late movie. Easy as pie.

No, what has me off balance is... well... Fraser! He looks fucking gorgeous tonight. I could jump him right now. I _wanna_ jump him right now. Rip those slacks down his legs and give him the best blow job of his life. And that vision has me squirming in my seat to make room in the leather pants for the inevitable boner. He'd probably have a heart attack anyway. Fraser is many things, but ‘interested in men' is not one of them. Sometimes I think he isn't interested in sex at all.

He climbs into the passenger seat beside me and dutifully straps himself in. "Ray, I'm still a little concerned about you getting into a car with a known murderer..."

I cut him off by gunning the engine and tearing off down the quiet street. "We've been through this, Frase. We need more to nail this guy than just simple kerb crawling."

Beside me, he sighs and nods his head. "I realise that, Ray. I'm just... worried."

I throw him a sideways look. He knows I'm tough. He knows I can look after myself, but this nutcase we're after – he's overpowered guys bigger than me and killed them. I know it; Fraser knows it. Still, I'm not that concerned. There ain't much room in this outfit, but I've managed to hide my gun, so I'm not as helpless as those other guys were. It's nice that he's worried about me though, and _damn_ my nipples are tingling. The rings are rubbing against the mesh of my shirt and driving me nuts.

We pull up a couple of blocks from the club where the male prostitutes hang out and I leave my coat in the backseat. Rolling my head and cracking my neck, I leave my old persona behind, and become who I appear to be. As we walk towards the club, my steps become lighter, my hips swing more freely. I plaster a ‘Mona Lisa' smile on my face and by the time we're there, I've already received several appreciative looks from men cruising the street. Beside me, Fraser is scowling and I can't tell if it's him being in character, or because he's pissed off for real.

Fraser immediately goes over to talk to our contact. Ezra has lost three of his boys to this nut job already and so he's willing to do anything to make it stop, even working with the cops. He looks kinda on edge as he fills Fraser in on the comings and goings outside the club. Fraser's head is tilted down, a small frown creasing his brow as he listens intently.

I scan up and down the street and immediately spot the PD surveillance car. Welsh will probably be in that one. I don't give the car a second glance cuz I don't want to draw attention to its presence. The duck brothers will be parked around the corner, out of sight. I thumb my nose, the sign that all is well, and adopt a sultrier pose.

Twenty minutes go by without incident. I get propositioned a couple of times, but Ezra and Frase got my back covered, and they throw a couple of real pros at the guys. These boys sure know how to turn on the heat, and before long I'm the only one left on the street. This makes me more than a little nervous. If I get hit on again, and turn it down for no good reason, anyone watching will know something stinks. I glance over my shoulder at Fraser, whose worried face radiates the same concern as mine.

"Hey, Blondie, you workin' or what?"

The black sedan pulls up at the kerb where I'm standing. The window is heavily tinted and only rolled about an inch. It's too dark to see inside. This could be him. Ezra had said the guy drove a dark colored car. I lean down and deliberately lick my lips. "Yeah, I'm working," I tell him.

"Get in."

A quick glance over my shoulder tells me that Fraser and Ezra have seen the exchange. Fraser is wired and no doubt passing details to the duck brothers about the make, model and registration number of the vehicle I'm climbing into. A small shiver of anticipation brings my situation into sharp focus. All I got to do now is wait for the guy to make his move and bust him. This is the part I love; the adrenalin rush that comes with the hunt.

* * *

Fraser is pressing a wadded up handkerchief to the wound on my head while Huey Mirandas our mark. I think it's stopped bleeding, but I kinda like him touching me like that so I let it pass. Besides, I'm still a bit fuzzy from the chloroform. Fortunately, I managed to knock the scumbag's hand away before I'd inhaled enough to knock me out completely, but it was enough to make me dizzy, so he hit me with the tire iron.

Things got really hazy after that. I vaguely remember hearing police sirens, and then Fraser was standing over me, shaking me and saying my name over and over again. Like I didn't know who I was. And my head was pounding. Welsh told me I'd done a good job then I kinda zoned out for a while.

"Vecchio, you don't look so good."

I squint up at Welsh and try to bluff my way out of what I know is coming. "Yeah, well I look better than you would in this get-up."

He snorts out a short laugh. "No argument there. Constable Fraser, drive him to ER and have them check out that head wound, would you?" Welsh says, totally ignoring my attempt to side-track him. "Then take him home and make sure he stays there ‘till Monday morning."

"What about Zale? I should probably...."

"Detectives Huey and Dewey are handling it, Vecchio," Welsh growls menacingly and I ain't gonna argue with him, cuz hell, my head really does hurt.

I let Fraser ease me into the GTO and hand him the keys. He hasn't said anything to me at all since the bust, but he's still scowling. I can tell he's pissed off but I have no idea why. I mean, I'm fine. I'm alive and the perp is in custody. Good result. So what's with him? I would ask, but every time I open my mouth, I feel like I'm gonna throw up.

The doc at ER is on first name terms with me and sees me right away. It helps that I've been here so often, that I get invited to their Christmas parties now. "Well, well, Ray, what on earth are you into this time?" Paul grins, giving me the up and down.

"Hey, this is strictly temporary," I wince as he removes the handkerchief and peers at my head. "I was undercover."

"Yeah?" Paul asks, reaching for the anti-bac wipes which I just know are gonna sting like a bastard. "What as? A rent boy?"

"As a matter of fact.... _fuck that nips_ as a matter of fact, yes."

Paul finishes cleaning the cut and steps back. "How many fingers do you see?" He waves his hand in front of my face and I jerk back.

"Hey, no need to be rude."

He smiles and begins to apply butterfly stitches. "You need to go home and take a couple of painkillers for the headache but I don't think you're concussed. You shouldn't drive though."

I see a blur of black move in my peripheral vision and then Fraser appears beside Paul. "I can drive him home," he says.

"And who are you, his boyfriend?" Paul smiles whipping off his latex gloves and tossing them in the bin.

Before I can say a damned thing, Fraser has answered for both of us.

"No, I'm his pimp."

Paul nearly coughs up a lung laughing.

* * *

"Do you need any help getting undressed?"

Fraser has just eased me down onto my bed, and stepped back to look at me with deep concern. I guess I really do look like shit. "I just need some Advil or something," I rasp. Then he's gone and I bend forward to tug off my biker boots. Crap... not a good idea. I feel a wave of nausea sweep over me and ease myself back on the bed until it passes.

"Ray, I really think I should take you back to the hospital..."

We've had this argument twice already since Paul let me go home. Jesus, he worries more than my mother! "I'm fine, Frase. Once I take the pills I'll be good." He helps me sit up enough to swallow the Advil and with a sip of water then eases me back down.

"All right, but I'm going to undress you. Please try not to resist in any way."

I let out my breath on a deep sigh. As if I could resist. I just wish that I could actually appreciate the idea of Fraser stripping me. He quickly and efficiently removes the boots and socks, then very carefully unbuckles my belt and the button on the leather pants. I crack open one eye and watch him.

He takes a deep breath, tugs down the zipper and begins to ease the leather over my hips, which is when I remember that I'm not wearing any underwear. The fucking trousers were so tight that I'd had to dust myself down with talc before attempting to get them on. And oh yeah, now Fraser is aware of my lack of undergarments too. All motion stops for a second before he takes another deep breath and just goes for it. That's something I admire about Fraser; he never lets personal feelings get in the way of what has to be done. I mean, I don't think any other guy I know would have kept going, faced with my naked dick waving under their nose.

And it is.

Waving, I mean.

No shorts + leather trousers = semi hard dick all night, and now that's it's free and exposed to the elements, it seems to think it should puff up a little more. Great. Just great!

I should close my eyes and pretend like I'm out of it again, but I can't drag my gaze away from his face. He's staring at my dick. He's _staring_ at it, like it's the most interesting dick in the world and when he finally manages to tear his eyes off it and realises that I've caught him staring, he flushes crimson and clears his throat.

"Well, it's uh... it's nice to know that you didn't go overboard with the body piercing, Ray," he croaks and I lift both my eyebrows in total non-comprehension.

"I mean, you didn't go so far as to have them give you a Prince Albert. I've always wondered why on Earth any man would voluntarily have such a thing done to his body. Although in the real Prince Albert's case it was apparently vanity that...."

"Fraser?"

"Yes, Ray?"

"Shut the fuck up and leave me with some dignity, will ya?" He smiles and pulls the sheet over my embarrassment.

I did think about having it done, for about a nanosecond. Right before they pierced my nipples, then that idea went right outta the window. _Fuck_ that had hurt. How the hell women breast-feed on a regular basis is totally beyond me. Fucking masochists the lot of them.

"Understood," he says carefully folding the leather trousers over the back of a chair. All I got left is the flimsy mesh crop top and I'm not letting him take that off. No way. He doesn't know about the nipple rings yet. Which is when I notice him staring at my chest. Oh right. Mesh is see-through. He knows about the nipple rings.

"Can you just switch off the light and leave me to die now?" I beg, feeling totally exposed and vulnerable and sick to my stomach with pain, and need and want.

"Certainly, Ray," he plants his ass on the bed next to me and turns my head gently to the side. "But first, I think I should remove some of these earrings. Your ears have gone quite red and sore looking."

It's true, my whole body feels flushed and hot, but that's got way more to do with Fraser, still full dressed in black like James fucking Bond or something, sitting on my bed, staring at me with those deep blue eyes. "Do you _have_ to?" I whine.

"I wouldn't want them getting infected." He's very careful as he removes the five silver studs from my ears. He's brought a dish of warm water and a cotton swab, which he gently cleans the area with. It's nice. I feel myself begin to relax. Right up until the moment I feel him slowly pull the sheet downwards and my eyes snap open. His fingers trace the shape of the diamond stud in my navel. His eyes are dark and hooded and he seems to have stopped breathing altogether. I _know_ I have.

"This should come out too," he whispers, flicking his index finger over the stud, which makes me gasp and arch off the bed. Bastard! Didn't he know that would be sensitive? Fucking bastard.

"Oh, God. Um... I don't think I'm supposed to take it out for a few weeks..." I say weakly, trying to tug the covers back up. But Fraser's hands are planted firmly on my stomach, pressing down on either side of the navel, and his eyes.... My God, his eyes are wild.

"And what about..." his hands move, shoving the mesh shirt upwards, his fingers grazing the nipple rings. "...these?" he breathes.

Oh fuck!

Ohfuckohfuck! His thumbs circle the rings, and then his head is moving and his tongue flicks through the silver ring, hot and wet and ... _fuck_ I'm as hard as a rock.

"I think...." Gasping here, panting and gasping and totally unable to think straight. "I think I might keep those," I blurt out, arching my back and shoving my chest in his face. He swipes his tongue over the gold nipple ring then his mouth glides lower.

"Shit... Frase... shit!" I moan when his tongue pokes into my navel, tonguing the diamond stud while his fingers tease and torment both my aching nipples at the same time. My dick rubs frantically against his smooth chest and he groans. I can't take this. It's way too much stimulation. I'm gonna... oh dear Lord, I'm gonna come!

I'm gonna come all over the Armani. "Frase!" It's a warning of a sort and thank God, Fraser is all over it. He opens his mouth and swallows me down just as the first wave hits hard and I yell his name again and convulse.

I come so hard it almost hurts. My nipples are throbbing and my navel feels like it's on fire. God! That was.... that was the most intense orgasm I've ever had. I flop back onto the mattress still panting while Fraser kisses his way back up to my chest.

"How's your head?" He asks and for a moment, I have no idea what he's talking about.

"Oh! It's um... it's gone. The headache's gone."

He smiles and presses his lips softly against mine, and he tastes like... whoa, that should _not_ be such a turn on.

"I'm glad. Now, about these rings..." he flicks his thumb over my nipple and I gasp again, arching into his touch. "Normally, I'm not a fan of self mutilation, but in this instance, I think I would appreciate it if you kept them in."

His eyes are hot and dark and I'm all over that idea. "The belly button ring has to go though, Frase. It's a real diamond and it's only on loan."

He nods and pushes his fingers into my hair. "I hope this hair color is only on loan too?."

Can't say I like it much myself. I can easily get Pedro to dye it back to my natural shade, but I'm keeping it spiked. I like the extra height. "Fraser?"

"Yes, Ray?"

I wasn't gonna ask. Not yet. I was just gonna go with it and enjoy it while it lasted but I have to know.

"Why?"

He looks at me with such warmth and love that I feel a bit stupid having to ask the question, but before tonight, I honestly thought I was the only one in this partnership interested in the other one's ass.

"Because, Ray, you make it so hard to resist."

"You've been resisting?" That's interesting. I never knew that.

"Well, I'm not at all sure about your intentions once Ray Vecchio returns. I didn't want to give you my heart only to have you leave me."

His heart? Does that mean... does he....?

"So, um..." My voice breaks on the question and I have to clear my throat. "... so why did you make the leap tonight?" I croak.

Without answering, he stands up and begins to strip off his clothes. I watch avidly, not trying to hide my interest for once. He turns around and he's so hard and so fucking beautiful that I want to get down on my knees at his feet and worship him.

He climbs into bed beside me and rolls to face me, our bodies not yet touching. "I realised tonight when I found you lying in a pool of blood in that alleyway that it was too late, I'd already fallen for you. From the first moment I saw you, I loved you."

What do you say to that? What answers can you give to a statement like that, right from his heart, right from his soul?

"That's.... huge." I whisper, reaching out to trace the curve of his shoulder with one shaking finger. "And not to sound totally clichéd and predictable, but..."

His finger on my lips silences me. "Shhh, Ray. No more words. Just kiss me."

So I do.

I kiss him, and he kisses me.

And it's amazing and scary and wonderful and new. I could do this all night. I could look at him and touch him for hours and not need anything else. There's no hurry here. I get the feeling we're in this for the long haul. I'm already thinking about buying him a ring.

Left nipple or right, I'll let him decide.

The End


End file.
